Birthday
by Elfpen
Summary: Halt has a few surprises in store for Will on his birthday. The problem? It’s not Will’s birthday. Or… Is it? Oneshot. Read and Review, please.


Title: Birthday

Author: Elfpen

Summary: Halt has a few surprises for Will on his birthday. The problem? It's not Will's birthday. Or… Is it?

Author's Note: The idea for this story occurred to me on March 10th, when my sister off-handedly mentioned that it was Remus Lupin's birthday. (All of us are Harry Potter fans.) I then started wondering when the rest of my favorite character's birthdays were. Will was one of the ones first to mind, and I realized that Will probably wouldn't know his real birthday, since he 'appeared' at the Ward already born (obviously) and there was no explanation as to when he was born. With that thought, the idea for this story popped into my head. I won't spoil any more of the story, though you'll probably be able to figure it out. Happy reading.

Oh, and by the way, I have no idea when in the year the battle of Hackam Heath/Will's birthday took place, so I just kind of picked a time that appealed to me. Feel free to scathe against me if you disagree with my timing for some reason.

* * *

Will first noticed Halt's strange behavior the moment he woke up. Strangely, it was bright outside, and Will found himself squinting into the mid-morning sun as he lifted his sleepy head from his pillow. After a moment of confusion, Will leaped out of bed in the sudden realization that he'd slept in. Halt would be furious. Hastily, Will threw on his clothes and did what he could to smooth down his messy hair. In a quick and surprisingly graceful succession of stumbles, trips and near-falls, Will navigated his way into the kitchen to find Halt calmly tending a skillet at the stove. The older man looked up at his apprentice in mild surprise, his expression obviously begging an explanation for Will's sudden and unconventionally clumsy entrance.

"I'm so sorry, Halt." Will babbled. "I slept in – I didn't mean to – I know I shouldn't have, I should have been up hours ago, I'm so sorry and I know I need to go fetch the water and feed Tug and get some more wood for the stove…" He babbled on so quickly that Halt could scarcely understand a word out of his mouth.

An odd expression on his face, the grizzled old ranger crossed his arms calmly over his chest and watched his apprentice for a moment more, before he interrupted him. "Will." He said. The boy kept on his nonsensical torrent. "Will!" He said more firmly. Apologetic brown eyes turned on him. He made sure his apprentice was listening to him when he said: "It's all right."

Will's brows came down over his eyes in a confused look. He blinked a few times, as if this simple statement made no sense. "All right?" He asked confusedly.

Halt took the skillet of eggs and bacon off the stove. "That's what I said, isn't it?" He pushed a steaming plate towards Will and started munching on his own bacon.

Will looked down at his breakfast, further confused. Halt had made him breakfast? And bacon and eggs, at that. Not oatmeal. Not toast. Not bran cereal. Lovely, delicious, sizzling bacon and eggs. He tried to think of a reason why his master would do such a thing.

"Besides," Halt was saying between bites, "I already fetched the water."

Will looked up at him, astonished.

Halt looked at him. "Don't look too surprised. Abelard was thirsty." He took a mouthful of eggs and said no more.

Will continued to stare at him, an utterly befuddled look on his face. Had the earth been shaken from its axis, or was Halt mentally ill? The ranger was _never _this lax about letting Will neglect his chores, nor did he _ever _prepare a breakfast with any flavor beyond that of raw coffee, and he most certainly did _not _let Will sleep in. Reverting to the original puzzle of the morning, Will couldn't help but ask:

"Why did you let me sleep in?"

Halt shrugged. "Tried to get you up. You wouldn't budge." He said, as if this explained the whole thing.

Will sent him a pointed look; one that told the older man that there was no way Will believed his story. Halt studiously ignored Will's gaze and continued to eat his breakfast. Irritated as his own confusion, Will sighed. Halt never let Will sleep in – even if he 'didn't budge', as Halt had put it. Will narrowed his eyes at the other ranger, ruefully remembering the times when Halt had doused him with water, dragged him to the floor, ripped off his sheets and yelled in his ear, all in the effort to wake him up at an acceptably unholy hour. Halt was up to something, he knew. He just wasn't sure what it was. Yet.

"Right." He said in an unconvinced tone. He picked at his breakfast with his fork. "Well," He said awkwardly. "Thanks, Halt."

Halt did not acknowledge the thanks, but jabbed his fork in the direction of Will's plate. "You're going to want to eat that before it gets cold." He said. Will nodded a bit distractedly, and shoveled egg and bacon into his mouth. As Halt rose to put away his plate and get a cup of coffee, Will watched him suspiciously. Yes, Halt was up to something.

Soon after Will had finished his breakfast, Halt beckoned him over to the living area, where he sat with his legs crossed, examining what Will knew to be official communications from the Ranger Commandant, Crowley. Will obediently sat down across from Halt, scooted forward in his seat at attention. The situation seemed to be something a briefing, and so Will tried to forget about Halt's odd behavior and focus on what he was saying presently.

"You'll be going into town today to run some errands for me." Halt said, not looking up from the document. Will nodded. It was by no means an odd occurrence, especially on a Saturday such as today. They often had to travel up to the village and castle markets to buy food, clothing and other supplies. But Halt's use of the word 'you' surprised him. It was a bit odd for Halt to be sending Will by himself.

"You're not coming?" Will asked.

Halt looked at him, shrugged, and gestured to a stack of papers on the table. "I have reports to tend to." He said simply. Will frowned. It wasn't like Halt to use paperwork as an excuse. He squinted at the man quizzically, again confused at Halt's odd behavior. This produced no desirable outcome, however, and so Will crossed his arms and leaned back resignedly.

"You'll also be delivering this to Sir Rodney." Halt held out a sealed letter. "He should be around the battleschool today – filing reports, I'd imagine." Will took the letter, and noted the oakleaf seal with some surprise. It was completely ordinary for Will to see the seal of the Ranger Corps on practically every other piece of paper that came into his hands, but it was a bit unusual for the Ranger Corps to be communicating directly with battlemasters.

"What's it about?" Will couldn't help but ask.

"Apparently," Halt explained, "while he was paying a visit to the Celtic border, Gilan developed a few new sword moves that are particularly useful for disarming opponents." Will smiled at the mention of Gilan's name and at the subtle pride evident in Halt's voice as he spoke of his former apprentice's recent accomplishments. "Crowley was rather impressed with them, enough so that he thought the kingdom's leading battlemasters should be aware of the maneuvers." He said. After a few seconds silence, Halt added: "Though if Gilan himself is telling the truth, he came up with the moves a bit accidentally. I think it had something to do with a particularly skilled Celtic swordsman who had mistaken Gilan for a personal enemy."

Will laughed. "Gilan _would _be the one to stumble upon a revolutionary sword move by accident." He said. Then, as he took the letter from Halt, added: "I bet, whatever the move is, Horace will be able to pick it up in a trice."

Halt smiled. "I'm sure he will. But don't forget to deliver that letter, or he might not get the chance." Halt eyed his apprentice meaningfully, and Will put the letter away in a leather bag, which he slung over his shoulder. "You'd better get going soon. Here's the list of other errands – mostly supplies and such." Halt handed him a small sheet of paper. Will took it and looked it over. He went to the door and fitted himself with his weapons and cloak.

"Do you need me back by any specific time?" Will asked.

"By dinner at the latest. Feel free to buy yourself lunch." Halt told him, tossing him a small coin sack that jingled as Will caught it.

"Alright." Will watched Halt for a moment before he left, his eyes searching for any indication that might tell him why Halt was acting so strangely. He found none. "Bye, Halt." And with that, he set off to Castle Redmont.

* * *

Halt watched from the window as his apprentice rode away. As soon as Will was out of sight, the ranger turned back to the cabin and headed towards his room. From inside his small wardrobe, hidden behind an old tattered cloak, Halt pulled out a smooth wooden rod with two distinct curves at either end. He then pulled out a small bundle that had been lying with the object

Halt placed the long recurve bow on his bed and pulled out a small tin of wax and a cloth. Skillfully, he ran the cloth down the length of the bow and back, rubbing in the wax that kept the bow smooth and sealed the wood from contaminants. Once the surface shone dully with a smooth finish, he pulled out a coiled length of string from the bundle. In a few smooth motions, he strung the bow and flicked the string a few times to set it into place. Nodding in approval, he pulled out another tin of wax. This wax was more like a smooth, very thick paste, and had a slight odor to it. He used his fingers to rub it into the string of the bow, which had been a bit dry when he'd strung it. The process took several minutes, but after he was done, he had a pleased look on his face.

He unstrung the bow and set it aside, and went back to his wardrobe to put the wax and cloth back in its place. While he was there, he took out another bundle, but this one rattled a bit as he removed it from the cupboard.

The bundle consisted of two dozen long grey shafts, tipped with steel. Along with the wood, Halt held a small box full of brown feathers cut into angular shapes and a bottle of glue. He carried these out to the verandah, where he sat down and began the tedious process of fletching each of the twenty-four arrows with three carefully placed feathers that would ultimately dictate how they flew through the air to their target. At Ranger standards, nothing short of perfection would pass the test. So the process was long, but Halt didn't seem to mind too much. He'd done this hundreds if not thousands of times before, and though he would never say it, nor let his features betray his emotions, it gave Halt a fulfilling kind of pleasure to be able to give a birthday gift to his young apprentice.

* * *

Will glanced about the battleyard before him without the slightest inkling where he was supposed to be going. He'd thought that the battleschool apprentices wouldn't be practicing on the weekend, but apparently, they never put their swords down. The atmosphere was a bit more relaxed than usual, Will noted, and some apprentices were walking calmly around, without any drills to attend to, but many others were engaging in duels, drills, and other rigorous exercises with the sword, quarterstaff, poleax, and lance. The activity, especially the duels, tended to migrate in different directions as the fights wore on, and Will was a bit apprehensive to walk into the blade-ridden fray without a preconceived destination in mind. Just as he was wondering how he was supposed to deliver the letter to Sir Rodney, a familiar voice carried over the clamor.

"Will!" It called clearly. Will immediately recognized the speaker, and his head shot around to see Horace jogging up to him, along with two other battleschool apprentices whom Will didn't recognize.

"What are you doing here?" Horace asked, surprised. The broad grin plastered to his face told Will that it was a pleasant kind of surprise. However, the other two other boys didn't look quite so ecstatic to see him. In fact, they looked rather wary of him. Typical, Will thought, as he was wearing his cloak and hood. Even battleschool apprentices were nervous around rangers – and ranger apprentices. Not wanting to be perceived as any kind of threat, Will pushed back the cowl of his cloak to reveal his tousled hair and wide smile.

"An errand for Halt. Good to see you, Horace!" He said, and Horace obliged by grabbing Will in a manly type of hug and pounding him on the back several times.

"Good Lord!" Will said, rolling his shoulder as if it was sore. "Is that an arm or a small cow that you just pounded into my back? You'll break my spine, you idiot!"

"Aw, the poor little ranger's apprentice is too delicate for a gentle pat." Horace said in a mocking way. His blue eyes sparkled mischief and he smiled. "Good to see you too, Will. I _am_ sorry if I hurt you." He said, glancing at the other boy's shoulder with a light kind of concern.

Will shook his head. "It's alright. But I don't believe I've met your companions before." Will said meaningfully, glancing at the two other apprentices, who had been watching the interchange with slightly uneasy expressions.

"Oh!" Horace exclaimed, turning back to the two. "Sorry about that. Corban, Grant, this is Will. Will, these fellows are Corban and Grant." He gestured to the two in succession. Corban was a tall boy, about Horace's height, with light hair and eyes. Grant was slightly shorter with jet black hair and eyes that were just as dark. The two nervously nodded a greeting at will. Nervousness didn't really fit a battleschool apprentice, Will decided. He'd have to lighten things up a bit.

"Pleasure to meet you." Will said in a friendly way. Corban gave a microscopic smile, but Grant did not respond. Well, it was something. Will shrugged inwardly. "Well, I am, like I said, running an errand for Halt. Horace, do you know where I could find Sir Rodney today?"

"Of course. He's in his office." And, seeing Will's slight confusion, he added: "I'd be happy to take you there, if you like."

"That would be great." Will said, relieved.

"Alright. Corban, Grant, you two should go back to dueling. I'll be back in a bit." Horace said, and the two boys looked relieved to leave the presence of the ranger. Once they were gone, Horace turned back to Will with a sigh.

"They looked a little less than happy to see me." Will observed. Horace shrugged apologetically.

"You know how it is. People aren't comfortable around you unnerving rangers."

Will looked at him suspiciously. "And you aren't?" he asked. Horace snorted.

"Course not. Not you, at any rate. I grew up with you. I used to pound you when we were younger. And you've saved my life on multiple occasions. I think that eliminates any uneasy feelings between us."

Will smirked at Horace's odd and yet completely straightforward answer. "I suppose so. Now, where is Sir Rodney? I have a letter to deliver."

"Right this way." Horace said, leading Will onto a path that led away from the training fields and towards the housing tents and offices. "A letter for Sir Rodney from the Corps?" Horace asked conversationally as they walked.

Will nodded. "Indeed. I don't know if I should tell you exactly what it's about, though."

"Right." Horace said easily, knowing that the Ranger Corps were an agency full of exclusive information and secrets. He was content with Will's answer, but the young ranger continued:

"Though I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. Oh, and when you do: All of it is Gilan's doing." Will said. Horace glanced sidelong at his friend.

"Gilan? Now I'm wondering what in the world Gilan did to get it all reported to a battlemaster."

Will laughed. "You'll find out soon enough, as I said."

They walked in companionable silence for several minutes, until they reached Sir Rodney's office.

"I'll be just a minute." Will said. "Stick around, would you? I don't know if I'll be able to find my way out of here."

Horace laughed. "Alright." Of course, Horace knew that Will _would_ be able to find his way out of the battleyard after being shown the way in – he wouldn't be any kind of ranger if he couldn't. It was just Will's weird way of saying that he enjoyed Horace's company, and so he stuck around anyway.

Several minutes later, Will emerged from the office and went over to Horace. "I think," He said with a smile. "That you apprentices will be having some new training drills within the next few days."

Horace's eyebrows rose. "Really? Whatever for?" 

"It's all Gilan's fault, as I said." Will said. "Now." He slapped Horace on the back, "How'd you like to join me for lunch?"

* * *

At a small wood table underneath an apple tree, amidst the normal hustle and bustle of the market, a small ranger's apprentice sat talking comfortably with a larger warrior apprentice. Off to one side, a shaggy brown horse plucked an apple off of a low-lying branch and munched on it happily.

"So how have you been lately?" Horace asked between bites of pork and bread.

"Pretty well. Halt has been keeping me to my normal training schedule. Pretty much the same stuff as always. Except…" Will was frowning.

Horace looked up. "Except what?"

Will shrugged in a confused way. "He's just been acting weird since this morning. I can't put my finger on it."

"Weird? How?" Horace asked his friend.

"Well… First, he let me sleep in. Then, he did some of my chores for me. And then he made me breakfast. And now, I'm off doing errands for him, and delivering official documents. I can't ever think of a time when Halt didn't deliver official letters in person. I mean, Halt is a kind person at heart, but I can't think of any reason why he should be so… Well, _kind _to me."

"You're right." Horace said. "That _is_ weird." Horace may not have known Halt as well as Will did, but he had spent several months traveling and living with the man in Gallica, and he knew Halt to be someone of a strict way of life. One was to get up at the same time everyday – probably before dawn. If one had duties to tend to, those duties would not be put aside for any reason. The only reason Horace could think of as to why Halt would ever be so lenient towards someone else was if they were gravely sick, injured, or otherwise incapacitated. And as far as Horace could see, Will was as healthy as ever.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not going crazy. I just wish I knew what he was up to." Will said, biting into a hunk of cheese moodily.

Horace regarded his friend sympathetically. "I'm sorry. You'll have to tell me if you ever find out what it is."

Will grunted. "Hopefully I'll find out before I go mad." He finished off his glass of water, and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Anyway," he said, hoping to change the topic of conversation, "I have to get down to the craftshops to pick up some things."

"I'll join you." Horace said. "I haven't been there in a while. Besides, it'll be nice to take a walk around."

Will nodded. It would be nice to have Horace's company, he thought. He rarely got the chance to visit his old friend these days, and, in the present circumstances, it was nice to have his mind off whatever it was that was bothering Halt.

They set out to the larger, permanently established shops that filled the interior of the huge ironstone castle, Tug following obediently behind his master. The castle market was busier than the smaller village market, and since most craftmasters gave their apprentices the day off on Saturday, all sorts of apprentices, warrior, smithy, scribe, embroider, and jeweler alike were all running up and down the alleys of the markets, laughing, talking, and in general enjoying their day of freedom. Will smiled at some of them, but kept walking on at a steady pace. He and Horace shared comfortable conversation as they walked, and once or twice Horace stopped to say hello to a friend from battleschool.

Soon enough, they finally reached the shop Will had come for.

"The tailor?" Horace asked curiously. "What kind of errand does Halt need for the tailor? Here I was thinking the man made his own clothes." The young warrior said in a joking kind of way. Will rolled his eyes fondly.

"Not clothes. Cloaks. It's nearly winter, and Halt wants to make sure neither of us freeze with these warm-weather things." Will gestured to the thin wool of his green-grey cloak. He then stepped into the shop, his entrance announced by a small bell jingling at the top of the door.

The shop was neat, clean and relatively quiet. A clock ticked in the corner, and all around on wooden shelves sat stacks of crisp linens, colorful shirts, and good boots. Several customers perused through these, and one woman held out a shirt to her husband to see if it would fit him well enough. Will went up to the counter and waited. Horace stood a few steps behind, glancing about at the various fixings of the room. A short distance away, a young female tailor took measurements from a young noble lady of the court, whose two handmaidens spoke with her in whispers. Horace glanced over at them, and one of the handmaidens blushed scarlet. Careful not to distract the tailor, the noble lady and the other handmaiden looked up at the handsome warrior and giggled. Horace felt heat rising to his cheeks and looked away.

Unseen by both parties, Will hid a smirk. As a knight in training – and a darn good one, at that – Horace was bound to have admirers of the female variety. He had, after all, killed the evil lord Morgarath, saved the Crown Princess Cassandra, rescued the young ranger, Will, and to top it all off, was already promised a knighthood, crest, title and all, at Castle Araluen. Of course, Will was just about as famous as Horace was, but being a ranger was much different from being a warrior. There was a certain mystery about Will, and he wasn't nearly so tall, big, and classically handsome a figure as Horace, and so he didn't have quite so many… Admirers as Horace did. But that was alright with him, Will thought as he glanced up at his friend's bright blush. It was amusing enough for him to sit back and watch Horace grow suitably embarrassed by the whole thing.

At that moment, an elderly, wiry old man came out of a backroom, and smiled when he saw Will.

"Ah, Will! Wondering when I'd see the young ranger in my shop." He said, setting down a stack of fabric on the counter. He re-adjusted a yellow measuring tape that was draped around his neck like a permanent part of his uniform. "Come to collect your winter attire, I presume?" He smiled at Will in a friendly way.

"Yes sir." Will said, smiling. The man nodded several times.

"Very well, then. I'll just be a moment." He retreated into the storeroom.

"He seems friendly. You know him?" Horace asked.

"I do, yes. Oliver knows Halt better, really. He's been making, mending and supplying rangers with cloaks, boots and clothes for a long time." 

Horace's eyebrows rose. "He makes ranger cloaks?"

"Indeed. One of the few who does, I think." Will glanced at his friend. "Why? Is that strange?"

"Strange? Course it is!" Horace said in a sarcastic way. "Surely you've heard, Will, those rangers make their cloaks out of mist – enchanted by dark sorcerors, they say, to make them invisible. Really, Will, you've got to be some kind of _stupid _not to know something as common knowledge as _that._"

Will chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Oh, what people will believe these days." Was all he said. Soon after, Oliver came back into the room with a heap of mottled fabric in his arms.

"Right then!" He said, laying down a long cloak on the counter. It was thicker wool that the one Will was wearing, and had large patches of white along with the normal green and grey. "Yours, and…" He heaved another heavy wool cloak onto the counter. "Halt's. Wear them well, as always. Oh!" He snapped his fingers, and disappeared below the countertop. He reappeared with a pair of thick shearling work boots. "Halt told me to make sure you got these. Size nine and one-half, specially made." Oliver smiled at the ranger as he handed him the boots.

"These are mine?" Will asked, confused.

"Indeed they are! Try them on!" Oliver stepped around the counter. Will put them on, and they fit perfectly. They were warm, soft, and sturdy. And, he noted pleasantly, they were nearly silent on the wood floorboards of the shop.

"You said Halt told you to make these?"

"He did. Couple of weeks ago. For his apprentice, he said. They're all paid for – they're yours." Oliver said. Will's eyebrows rose. Well that was very kind of Halt. Boots like these weren't exactly necessary, but were more of a winter luxury for a ranger. He would have to thank his master when he got home. All the same, he wondered why Halt had done it in the first place.

"Now, put on this new shimmery thing of yours and see if it fits to your liking." Oliver was saying, holding out Will's new cloak. He was sure it was fine, but he humored the old tailor and replaced his current cloak with the new one.

It didn't take long to convince Oliver that the cloaks were fine, that Halt would like his, thank him, and then leave. As Will strapped the merchandise to Tug's saddle, Horace came up beside him.

"You seemed surprised by the boots." He said.

Will nodded. "I didn't know Halt had gotten them. I don't know why he did, really. They're not at all necessary, and Halt doesn't really get things that aren't necessary. I like them a lot - It's a bit odd, is all."

"Perhaps its part of his… Odd behavior, as you called it." Horace thought aloud. Will sighed.

"I wish I knew what was bothering him." Will's jaw set in a determined line. "I'm going to ask him about it when I get home."

The rest of the day passed smoothly. Eventually, Will had bought all the supplies he'd come for, and so with one last goodbye, he'd left Horace at the castle and started back for the small cottage at the edge of the forest.

After he'd left Tug at the large water trough with Abelard, he'd heaved all of the packs over his shoulder, including the cloaks and boots, and brought them inside.

"Thought I'd heard you outside." Halt said, stepping out of his room.

"Hello, Halt. I got your cloak here." He said, holding out the garment for Halt, who took it and examined it, pleased. "Oliver also gave me these. Said you'd bought them for me." Will said, pulling out the shearling boots. "They're very nice, Halt. Thank you." Will said genuinely, smiling at his master. "But… Why did you get them?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Thought you could use some warm boots this winter." Halt said simply. "A man needs a good pair of warm boots."

Will nodded. He was about to speak and ask Halt why he'd been acting the way he was, but Halt held out a hand.

"Just a moment. I've got something else for you." He said. The older ranger took the other packs from Will's hands and deposited them on the table to be put away later. He then left to his room, leaving a confused Will standing alone in the living room. He soon returned, holding something behind him. Will's look of confusion melted into one of sheer surprise as Halt produced a beautifully crafted recurve bow and two dozen newly fletched arrows from behind his back. He held them out to Will.

"Go on, take them." Halt encouraged when Will didn't touch them.

Reverently, Will picked up the bow and the quiver of arrows, looking them over with an amazed expression.

"You're still not quite strong enough to use a longbow just yet, but I thought you'd grown out of your old bow. This one's a bit bigger and more powerful. And I thought your arms were getting a bit long for your old arrows. These should fit your draw a bit more comfortably." Halt watched his apprentice examine the bow with a small hint of pride.

Will didn't know what to say. What could he say? Why on earth was Halt giving this to him? What was the occasion? "Halt…" he found his voice. "It's beautiful. All of it. But… Why…" Before he could finish his question, Halt indulged in a rare smile.

"Happy birthday, Will." He said.

Will looked at him, and it took a moment before he could talk. "My… Birthday? Wait a minute… That's what this is all about. That's why you let me sleep in, and made my breakfast, and bought me the boots… Halt, I'm touched. I really am. But…" He glanced down at his new bow, almost feeling bad for saying what he was about to say. "Halt, it's not my birthday."

It was the first time Will had ever seen Halt look genuinely confused. "Of course it is." The older man said. "The second day of November, isn't it?"

"Well," Will said, "It is November second today, yes…"

"Well, then, it _is _your birthday." Halt said.

"But… Halt, My birthday isn't for another three weeks."

There was an odd silence in the room after this, and Will thought Halt looked as if he was working through a puzzle.

"You mean… They didn't know?" He asked after a while.

"Who didn't know what?" Will asked, confused.

"The caretakers at the Ward. They didn't know your birthday." It was more of a statement now, and Will could see understanding dawning on Halt's features. He, however, was still thoroughly confused.

"Well, I kind of just showed up at the Ward, you know. No one knows my _real _birthday. Not even me." Will said, hoping that he could explain some.

"I do." Halt insisted.

"What? How would you know?" Will asked, even more confused, now.

"I was there."

And of course, when he said it, it all made sense. Will knew that Halt had sworn to his dying father, Daniel, that he'd take care of his wife and unborn child. But he'd never really considered that that meant that Halt was the only other person besides his mother who was present on the day of his birth. An odd mix of surprise and understanding came over his features.

"I… I suppose you were. I never thought about it." Will said truthfully. Then, curious like a young boy, looked back up at Halt. "Is it _really _my birthday today?" He asked. Halt nodded, a small smile on his lips.

"When you didn't say anything this morning, I was starting to wonder if you'd forgotten it yourself. I know now that you didn't even _know _it yourself."

"I suppose not…" Will said. He'd always been told by the nurses at the ward that his birthday was on the twenty-fifth of November.

"When did you think your birthday was, Will?" Halt asked kindly.

"Well… I'd always been told it was the twenty-fifth."

"Ah." Halt seemed to understand. "That was the day I left you on the steps of the Ward. I can see why they would pick that date to celebrate your unknown birthday."

Will scoffed. "Well, 'celebrate' might not be the right word for it. The Ward provides for education, food, and shelter. Not so many parties, really. Especially for something as common as a birthday." Will glanced down at his new bow once more. "I've never had a proper birthday gift before…" He mused more to himself, looking over his new weapon. Halt regarded him with fond eyes. He hadn't thought that that Will had ever had a special birthday in the Ward. "I mean," Will amended, "I got a few little trinket gifts from my wardmates - Mainly Jenny and Alyss. Especially Alyss." Will smiled wistfully as he said Alyss' name.

Halt grinned at the clear affection Will had for his former wardmate and good friend. The ranger was well aware that his apprentice was extremely close to the young courier. He also knew that whether Will would admit it or not, he had romantic feelings towards Alyss. It was an admirable kind of love, Halt thought. The two had known each other since before either of them could remember, had been best friends for years, and now, as they grew into adulthood, had become something of a romantic couple.

"Well, now you have." Halt said after a while. "Now why don't you go and see how it shoots?" He suggested lightheartedly. Will's face broke into smiles.

"Thank you, Halt." He said, flinging his arms around the older man. The hug was made a bit awkward by the large bow that Will still held in his hand. Halt resisted the urge to laugh, and patted Will on the back.

"Just don't break it. Now go on." He peeled his beaming apprentice off of him and directed him towards the door, shaking his head. He followed Will out the door and watched his exited apprentice fire the new bow from the verandah. Briefly, Halt wondered which was better – receiving a gift, or giving it.

"It's brilliant!" Will called from some ten meters away. His eyes were alight, his hair was, as ever, tousled by the cowl of his cloak, and his grin was wide, ear-to-ear. Halt smiled and settled back into the canvas chair. Giving, he decided, was definitely the more enjoyable of the two.

* * *

Later that evening, Halt and Will shared a meal of seasoned steak, a rare, special meal for their table. Throughout, Will praised the quality of the bow and thanked Halt endlessly for it and the boots that he'd gotten for him, to which Halt modestly nodded and kept on eating. On the inside, though, it meant more to him than anything.

At length, they had finished their meals and sat back enjoying the fire.

"Halt," Will asked eventually, "You said I was born on the second… But you didn't leave me at the Ward until three weeks later." He shrugged. "Why three weeks?" He asked.

Halt sighed, and set down his plate. "Your mother did not die right after you were born." He said solemnly. "I'm sad to say that she suffered in pain for the better part of three weeks before her body finally gave in. There was nothing I could do. She knew she was going to die, I suppose, but she insisted on staying with you." Halt paused and looked over at Will, who was listening intently. "I know you'll never know her, Will, but your mother loved you dearly." He reverted to the original story. "I stayed with her and helped her as much as I could while she waited for the inevitable to happen." Halt's eyes looked far away, as if he was reliving the events he spoke of in his mind's eye. "She cared for you as much as she could, and then one morning… She didn't wake up." Halt said. "She passed away in peace, with you in her arms." Halt looked back to Will. "We'd already agreed that if, or rather, when she passed, I would take you to the Ward. So I buried her, let loose the small amount of livestock that was on the property, and took you back to the Ward here at Redmont."

After a reverent sort of silence, Will asked: "My mother has a proper grave, then?"

Halt nodded. "She does."

"I'd like to visit there, someday." He said quietly. Halt regarded him, and nodded.

"I'll take you there, if you like." The ranger said just as quietly. Will looked up, and smiled at his master.

"Thanks, Halt."

A comfortable silence followed, where both the ranger and his apprentice could reminisce back on memories and histories. After several long moments, Halt rose.

"I'm sure both she and your father would be very proud of you, Will." Halt said, laying a hand on Will's shoulder. "Almost as proud as I am."

At this, Will looked up to meet Halt's gaze. The other ranger's eyes bored into him, but not in a threatening kind of way – in a way that told him that he'd done well. Then, Halt gave one slow, steady nod of his head, squeezed Will's shoulder, and stepped away. But it was more than enough for Will. Forget sleep, bacon, boots and bows. As far as he was concerned, Halt's approval was the best birthday present he could ever receive.

"Thank you, Halt. For everything." Will said, also rising.

Halt smiled. "Happy birthday, Will."

Yes, thought Will, indeed it was.


End file.
